


Beginners Guide to Thieving

by The_Captain



Series: The Cons of Being Dovahkiin [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Humor, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Mild canon divergence, Thieves Guild, guild questline, self destructive behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-04-08 12:57:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14105883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Captain/pseuds/The_Captain
Summary: It isn't fair of the Divines to put this on her, a Nord with no past and no memory. She tried, gods did she try, to be just what the people of Skyrim needed - a hero who would push back the threat of dragons - but this talk of prophecy and of the end times has her scared. So, when it comes time for her to ask the Greybeards if they know what shout was used to defeat Alduin, Mera doesn't. Instead, she runs. Runs past Ivarstead and into Riften where she hopes she can keep herself together for long enough for the whole thing to blow over. No matter how guilty she might feel.





	1. Chapter 1

Of all the people Brynjolf expected to wander into the Ragged Flagon, the blonde haired warrior-type woman who’d spectacularly failed at stealing Madesi’s ring was hardly at the top of the list. Delvin nudged him as she walked past Dirge, nodding at the guard on her way into the small tavern. She looked nervous, unsure, and Brynjolf’s brows furrowed in thought as she turned her head slowly, looking around the room until her blue eyes came to rest on him. 

Mera, if he remembered correctly, made her way to their table with hesitant steps. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been in a rush, barrling her way into the Warrens without a second glance at him or anyone else in the Guild for that matter. He had known, based on her line of questioning which led her to doing the job in the first place, that she’d come down to the Ratway in search of that wizard, but he hardly expected to be so ignored. It’d been disappointing. Despite her… shortcomings when it came to thieving, Brynjolf had a good _ feeling _ about the lass. He’d talked her up, and being completely passed over like that after bragging about his new possible recruit to Delvin, Vex and Vekel had been a… humbling experience. 

But then again, here she was. Back in the sewers with the thieves. 

She came to a stop right before their table, heavy armor clinking as it settled into place. She looked between him and Delvin, and for a moment there was silence. 

Brynjolf took a drink, and with the tankard still close to his lips, he spoke. “Well, I didn’t expect to see you back here, lass. Come looking for another lost old wizard?” 

“Actually I was,” Mera paused, clearing her throat and straightening herself up, and Brynjolf raised his brow at the display. “I was actually looking for you.” 

Interesting. He turned his body to face her more fully. He may still be sore about her leaving, but he couldn’t miss out on an opportunity to make some coin. “Alright, well you’ve found me. What’s this about?” 

“I want to take you up on your offer.” A pause. “If it still stands, that is.” When he didn’t respond right away, shifted nervously, eyes darting to the side of her. “I know I was… short with you, when I was here last. I was on a job. You… you’re a businessman, Brynjolf. I’m sure you can understand the need to keep a client happy. Especially when the job is… time sensitive.” 

“Of course,” he nodded. “And I take it the job is done, then?” 

“Yes, it is.”

Brynjolf looked at Delvin, and the old thief’s eyes held a glint amusement and fascination. Brynjolf nearly snorted at it. Of course Delvin would be so invested already. The thief clung to any hope for the Guild with a vice like grip. Turning back to Mera, he nodded. “I might have a job for you, if you’re willing. Think of it as a… test.” 

“A test?” She scoffed, her irritation tangible. 

“Aye, lass, a test. You did fail on that first job. I need to make sure you’re not going to waste our time and get us  _ all  _ in trouble.” 

“She’s not going to be doing much sneaking in that armor,” Delvin commented, and Brynjolf nodded. 

“No, but it’s perfect for what I need. Remember that job I was going to pass to Thrynn?” 

Delvin looked Mera over, eyes sweeping her from head to toe. “I see what you’re saying.” 

“Seems like a perfect test to me.” 

“So what is this test?” Mera asked, clearly growing impatient. 

“How do you feel about handling a few deadbeats?” 

“Explain.” 

“Keerava, Bersi Honey-Hand and Haelga. They owe our organization some serious coin and they've decided not to pay. I want you to explain to them the error of their ways,” Brynjolf leaned back in his chair as he spoke, watching for her reaction.

She seemed to mull the idea over in her head before nodding. “How much do they owe, so I can make sure they don’t skimp?” 

“Smart lass. A hundred gold each.”

If she cared about the actual amount, it didn’t show. Mera nodded, rolling her weight from one foot to the other. “Consider it done.” 

“That’s the spirit!” He grinned. “Off you go. Do this right, and I can promise you a permanent place in our organization.” 

Mera didn’t waste time mincing words. She looked at him, examining his face for a moment before nodding and walking away, heading out of the Flagon to do the job. Brynjolf watched her go with a smirk on his lips. 

“Well you were right about one thing, Bryn,” Delvin started. “She certainly is… something.” 

“Quiet, Delvin. I have a good feeling about this one.” 

“She’s a professional, I’ll give you that, but a thief? I don’t know. Thieves don’t usually wear steel armor.  _ Or  _ take jobs that involve openly fighting Thalmor.” 

Delvin was right, of course. He’d found it incredibly… odd, when Mera had come running out of the Ratway with the wizard, followed quickly by Thalmor agents. They needed thieves in the Guild, not mercenaries, but if she was willing to put forth the effort, then they could hardly afford to deny her. 

“Just trust me on this, Delvin. I think this is exactly what we need to turn our luck right around.” Brynjolf clapped the other thief on the shoulder. 

“Well, we could at least get another heavy out of this,” Delvin mused, scratching at his chin. “With how things have been going, it couldn’t hurt to have new muscle on our side. Thrynn can’t do all the intimidation jobs.” 

“See! That’s the spirit.” 

Delvin rolled his eyes. “You’ll still have to convince Mercer of it.” 

Brynjolf waved it off. “Ah, leave Mercer to me. He’ll see things my way, I’m sure of it.”

 

* * *

 

Mera rubbed her sore jaw as she made her way back into the Ratway. Getting the money from the shop keeps had been about as difficult as she expected. No one wanted to part with their coin so easily, and two of them had been more than willing to fight for it. It felt… wrong, confronting them like that, demanding their gold and then beating them when they refused. Her stomach clenched when she thought of what the Companions would say, if they could see their Harbinger behaving this way. 

As she pushed her way into the Ragged Flagon, Mera pulled down the half mask she’d put on her face while doing the Guild’s dirty work and lowered her hood. She didn’t know how much time she’d be spending in Riften, and she didn’t want the whole damn city to know she was in with the Guild in case things went south. Anonymity could be her friend, here, especially if anyone caught wind of her true identity. The last thing the people of Skyrim needed right now was to think that their hero was off running with thieves when she should be slaying dragons. 

And she  _ should _ be slaying dragons… Mera shook her head. No, she didn’t want to think about that now. She adjusted her grip on the sack of gold in her hand as she approached the main section of the tavern, eyes immediately finding Brynjolf’s distinctive red hair with ease. He sat at the bar, talking casually with the man who worked behind it, and she waited for a moment to make sure their conversation wasn’t important before she approached him. 

He turned to face her, emerald eyes going straight to the right side of her face, where she was sure she was bruising. Helga was stronger than she looked, and she’d landed a few solid hits on her before going down. Her mouth still tasted like copper.  Before Brynjolf has a chance to speak, she placed the heavy bag of coin on the bar counter in front of him. 

“Count it if you’d like, but it’s all there. I don’t think they’d skimp out on me after that.” 

His gaze lingered on her jaw for a moment longer before moving up to her eyes, an easy grin spreading across his face as he grabbed the purse and felt the weight in his hands. “So it is. Well done, lass. Jobs done, and best of all, you did it clean,” his eyes flickered to her bruising once again. “I like that. Dumping bodies, paying of guards, it can be a real hassle - and quite expensive. And, now it seems I owe you something in return. Vekel do you have those..?” 

“Right here, boss.” The barkeep, Vekel, reached behind the counter and pulled out three potions, placing them out for Brynjolf who nodded. 

“These should come in handy for you, I’d imagine.” 

Mera resisted the urge to frown. She’d been hoping for something more… shiny. She hardly had more than a few hundred gold with her in Riften, and if she was planning on living here for some time, she’d need the finances to support it. But this would have to do, for now at least. 

“Judging by how you handled those shopkeeps, I’d say you’ve proven yourself just fine. We could use people like you in our outfit.” He continued, bringing the gold purse down and putting it in one of his side pockets. 

She tried to keep her eyes off of it until the gold was fully out of sight. After a moment, she reached up and swiped all three of the bottles off the counter. “If there’s more gold, then I’m interested.” 

“Ah, good, that’s the spirit! Larceny is in your blood - a tell tale sign of a practiced thief,” Mera resisted the urge to scoff. He really was over selling it. “I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine around here.” 

Brynjolf surprised her, then, by putting on a smile that looked entirely genuine. She assumed that his entire persona was a front, and that once she got into the Guild, once he’d convinced her to make them more money, he’d let it drop and quit acting so nice, but he seemed  _ actually _ happy for her and her success, as well as for her attempts at joining the Guild. Maybe there was more to this, after all. 

Still, she had questions. “Brynjolf, I’ve noticed your…. ‘Organization’ seems to be a little, well, I’ve heard some rumors up top that things haven’t been going so well for you.” 

Brynjolf waved off her concerns, rolling his shoulders as he got to his feet. “Yes, things have been rough, but it’s nothing to be concerned about. Tell you what, you keep making us coin, and I’ll worry about everything else. Fair enough?” 

“Fair enough.” 

“Great. Now, follow me, and I’ll show you what we’re all about.” 

Mera found herself smiling warily as Brynjolf lead her deeper into the Ratway. This was hardly ideal, no, but at least she was making progress. She wouldn’t say she was the biggest fan of the thought of thieving, but if she was going to go under… well then maybe that was what she had to do. At the very least, the Thieves Guild could keep her hidden and out of the reach of the Blades, which would do. For now. 

Brynjolf lead her up to a cabinet, turning to face her with the smirk she was starting to realize lived on his face. He opened both the doors, and then placed his hands on the back panel, sliding it out of place, much like the one in the Sleeping Giant Inn. She continued to follow him inside, eyes wandering the hall as they approached a door that she imagined lead further into a more secret area of Guild operations. Like a gentleman, he held it open for her, and she stepped inside.

“Welcome to the Cistern, lass,” he said lowly, leaning in and speaking close to her ear from behind her as she unabashedly let her eyes wander. 

The space was huge, the ceiling towering, and she wondered how this all managed to exist beneath a city like Riften. There were a few people milling around, other thieves dressed in brown Guild leathers, but in the center, hovering above the water on a platform, stood a man who Mera could instantly tell was in charge. 

His armor matched Brynjolf’s - black rather than brown - and he stood with both hands on his hips, watching with an intense scowl as the ginger Nord lead her directly up to him. Mera could feel his eyes roam her, and she knew she was being appraised, judged for her worth and despite her bruising, she held her head high, chin pointed. 

Brynjolf finally came to a stop, standing right beside the man while Mera stood before them, and she tried to remain emotionless as Brynjolf gestured openly towards her. 

“I’ve got one for you, Mercer.” 

“This better not be another waste of the Guild’s resources, Brynjolf.” Mercer replied with a sneer and Mera couldn’t keep the obvious look of distaste off of her face. He didn’t even wait for Brynjolf to speak before facing her once again. “Before we go any further, I want to make one thing clear to you. Follow the rules, you get rich. Break the rules, you lose your share. Continue to do that, and we may just decide you’re not worth keeping around. You follow our orders, and you do what we say, when we say it.  Understood?” 

Briefly, Mera was reminded of when she joined the Companions, of Vilkas barking orders at her and taking every opportunity to test her. That was before, before she’d proven herself and before she ended up being the Dragonborn. How long has it been since someone wasn’t aware of her title when dealing with her? Since someone didn’t speak to her like she was some sort of legend just for breathing? 

As much as she hated the way Mercer looked at her like she was dirt, it was almost  _ nice _ to not have the world expected of her, for once. Maybe she could get used to this. 

“Understood.” Mera replied stiffly. 

“Good. Now that that’s out of the way, I think it’s time we put your skills to the test.” 

Immediately Mera caught Brynjolf’s frown. “Mercer, you aren’t talking about Goldenglow, are you? Vex couldn’t even get into that fortress.” 

“Yes, Brynjolf, I am. You claim that this new _ recruit  _ has an aptitude for our line of work, well it’s time she proved it,” he replied with a hint of annoyance before turning his attention back to Mera. “Goldenglow Estate was one of the Guild’s more lucrative deals. It’s a bee farm, and the honey gets sold to Maven Black-Briar, an associate of ours, and an important one at that. It’s run by a sleazy Wood Elf  named Aringoth. Except, Aringoth has stopped sending out shipments of his honey. We need you to teach him a lesson. Brynjolf will give you the details.” 

“Mercer,” Brynjolf looked pointedly at the older thief. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

“What? Oh, yeah…” He turned his attention back to Mera. “Since Brynjolf assures me you’ll be nothing but an asset, welcome to the Thieves Guild. Tonillia will supply you with your new armor.” Mercer looked at her steel with a sneer. “Now get moving.” 

Without so much as another word, Mercer turned and walked away, headed towards the the desk that was at the edge of the Cistern. Brynjolf looked at her expectantly, and Mera shifted her weight. 

“He’s charming,” she muttered, and the ginger cracked a smile. 

“Aye, that’s Mercer Frey for you. He’s been the Guild Master for nearly twenty years now, but enough about that. Let me give you the details on your job. We want you to break into Goldenglow, and empty the safe. Also, torch three of the hives, but no more than that. We want to send a message, not put the estate out of business.” 

“Sounds solid,” Mera nodded. 

“This isn’t a normal job. If Aringoth or any of his mercenaries give you trouble, kill them. We don’t need him alive. Just make it out of there, and try and discover why he’s decided to cut Maven out of the deal.” 

“Alright, I can do that,” 

“You might want to talk to Vex. She’s the only one with any experience on the island, and she might have some tips for you. And Mera,” Brynjolf tilted his head down, looking at her directly. The lighthearted tone and smile from before were gone, and its its place was a seriousness that made her squirm. “I’ve put my neck out on the line for you here. Don’t disappoint me.” 

There was a sense of finality to his tone that nearly had her squirming, but she managed to stay firm. With a curt nod, she turned away, walking out of the Cistern and back towards the Flagon. She could feel his eyes burrowing into the back of her head the entire way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back nerds! Bringing you the thieves guild once again in an attempt at a rewrite! So, this will probably have smut in it, eventually, but I'll always put a warning at the top of the chapter if it will. And hopefully this time, I'll actually get to finish the story. Fingers crossed! 
> 
> Comment and leave kudos and I will love you forever.


	2. Chapter 2

Brynjolf watched Mera go with a frown etched heavily on his lips. It was foolish of him to worry about her - the lass had shown herself to be capable so far - but Goldenglow was a different beast than a few simple shopkeeps. He could have sent anyone in the whole Guild to collect a few debts, that was why he used it as a test, but not even Vex had managed to come back from Goldenglow successfully. The imagine of her entering the Cistern, soaked to the bone with fire in her eyes, was not one he’d soon forget. Vex was one of their best, and for her to fail… 

Brynjolf stopped in front of Mercer’s desk with the scowl still plastered on his face. Mercer didn’t even look up before he started talking. “You always did have an eye for pretty things, Brynjolf, but I thought you were better than to let that mix with business.” 

“Stealing pretty things is my business,” Brynjolf countered without thinking before he shook his head. “Is that was this is about, Mercer? You’re trying to get rid of our newest recruit because you doubt my ability to properly vet the footpads?” 

“Forgive me if I say you haven’t done much to ensure my confidence,” Mercer spoke dryly, lifting his eyes up to glance at Brynjolf. “You bring me a  _ girl _ dressed in heavy armor and you expect me to be pleased? Well I’m not.” 

“So you send her on our most difficult job?” 

“Yes, and you better hope she comes back, or I’m sending  _ you _ next!” Mercer’s bark was all Brynjolf needed to near to know the conversation was over. 

It was an empty threat, and they both knew that. Mera, despite Brynjolf’s gut feeling about her, was considered expendable by the Guild as of now. But Brynjolf was far from that. He practically ran the guild when Mercer got too caught up in pouring over plans to focus on the day to day. There was no way the Guild Master would risk his second in command on a mission that two of their members failed, even if one of those members was a simple footpad. 

Besides, even if he did, Brynjolf was more than capable of handling himself in a fight, if he needed to. 

There was no use sitting on his hands in the Cistern and waiting for Mera to return. He turned towards the Flagon, steps slow and casual. Brynjolf needed a drink and hopefully, before he knew it, Mera would return. 

And return she did. It was getting late. Most of the other members had cleared out, going to the Flagon or the Bee and Barb for a late night drink, but not Brynjolf or Mercer. It’d become somewhat of a silent competition between the two as they waited for someone to enter the Cistern. Mercer wanting to shout at Brynjolf when no one came before they had to leave and Brynjolf eager to prove Mercer wrong. When he heard the secret entrance open, the ginger nearly leapt to his feet in a rush to see who it was. He managed to keep his composure, and Mercer only raised his eyes from his book, not bothering to even get up. 

Brynjolf got there just in time to see Mera practically fall down the ladder, knocking over a tankard and a bottle of mead as she stumbled out of the pathway, and where Cynric stood to the side practicing with his arrows, Brynjolf heard a curse as he jumped. 

“Shor’s bones, lass!” Brynjolf moved quickly, reaching down and pulling her to her feet. 

Her Guild armor squelched in his hand, and he noticed she was completely soaked through, drenched from head to toe. Her hood hung around her neck and her blonde hair laid flat on her scalp, coming down in wet strands that made her look more like wet rat than the warrior he saw earlier. 

The second she was on her feet, Mera was brushing him off, shrugging her shoulder out of his grip with a shake of her head as she limped past him. “I’m fine… I’m fine.” 

Brynjolf frowned as he followed her out of the out-cove of the entrance and towards Mercer’s desk. Had he been a footpad, he would have flinched at the harsh look Mercer leveled her way as Mera slowly limped over. There was no was she’d succeeded, not if she came back looking like this. 

Gods dammit, not again. 

“I thought I made myself clear when I gave you that job,” Mercer started. “Or did I need to spell it out for you? If you couldn’t get it done, then-” 

Mera cut him off, a lopsided grin on her face as she reached into her belt and pulled out a slip of paper. “This,” she said as she extended her hand over the desk, “came from the safe. The wind made the beehives difficult, but it’s done.” 

Mercer snatched the letter from her hand without ceremony, opening it and scanning over the words with the permanent scowl on his face. Brynjolf took the moment to look over Mera. 

She favored one leg over the other, and her face was more bruised than it was when she left. She looked like she tried to fight each and every mercenary head on without even attempting at stealth, and Brynjolf couldn’t help but feel  _ annoyed _ . They needed thieves, not warriors. At this rate, she’d get herself caught and killed, and someone who couldn’t sneak wouldn’t be useful to them. In the back of his mind he nagged himself. He should have known, she couldn’t even steal a ring, how could she be expected to make her way out of Goldenglow unscathed?

Her eyes didn’t leave Mercer’s face as he looked over whatever news she brought, and after a moment Mercer growled and shoved the letter out and into Brynjolf’s hands. 

Brynjolf scanned his eyes over the words, a frown pulling more heavily on his face. “Aringoth sold Goldenglow? What was he thinking, cutting Maven out of a deal? She’s not going to be pleased.” 

“Very observant of you, Brynjolf.” Mercer spoke dryly as he snatched the letter back. “I’ll need to meet with Maven, discuss what to do next, see what she has to say.” The Guild Master turned, walking away and Brynjolf sighed. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Mercer?” 

Frey turned, looking from Brynjolf to Mera and scoffing. “What, would you like me to pat her on the back? Or, perhaps congratulate you for finding someone who was capable enough to do the job? Get back to work, Brynjolf.” 

That was as much of a ‘you were right’ that Brynjolf would get from the older man. “Whatever you say, boss.” 

Brynjolf turned to look down at the woman, and he noticed, then, that her left eye was bloodshot. 

“Will I get a pat on the back from you, at least?” she asked dryly, her lazy grin still on her face. “I wouldn’t mind it, though I’d much prefer to get paid.” 

The older thief crossed his arms over his chest and scowled down at her. “We’ll talk about your pay in a moment. What in Oblivion happened to you?” 

Sensing his irritation, she scowled. “What, I got the job done, didn’t?” 

“Aye, that you did, but at what cost, lass?” Brynjolf didn’t think, he just reached out, grabbing her chin and tilting her face into the light. She made a surprised sound as he held here there, looking over her bruises until she managed to pull away. “Look at you! You look like you lost a fight with a giant!” 

“I didn’t-” 

“Listen.” Brynjolf cut her off, bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he exhaled out his tension. “Whatever it was that you did before, that’s done now. You’re a thief, not a warrior. Act like it. I didn’t bring you in to have you end up incapacitated after every job. Don’t embarrass me by getting yourself killed.” 

Mera’s eyes bounced around his face, searching him before her blank expression turned 

sour. She pushed past him, making her way towards the Flagon. “I can take care of myself, Brynjolf. I’m not a child.” 

Before she could get out of reach, he grabbed her arm and held her. “I never said that you were. Just… be more cautious. I’d hate to lose you so soon.” 

She looked at him for a long moment before shaking her head. “Yeah, alright. Now, where’s my pay? I need a drink.” 

Brynjolf sighed, and reached to his side, pulling out the coin purse and handing it to her. “...Well done, lass. Check in with Delvin and Vex tomorrow to pick up more jobs. Just be more careful.” 

“I’m always careful,” she said as she took the coin from his hand and headed directly towards the Flagon, leaving Brynjolf standing alone. 

* * *

 

Be careful. Take care of yourself. You’re a thief, not a warrior, act like it. Mera scoffed to herself as she approached Vekel, placing gold on the counter and getting a bottle of mead from the man. In a fluid movement, Mera uncorked it with her teeth and took a swig. Who was Brynjolf to tell her to be careful? 

She was the  _ Dragonborn _ , not some useless footpad who couldn’t hold her own in a fight. She’d probably killed more people in the past year and a half than Brynjolf did in his entire life! Her wolf spirit growled lowly in discontent as she took another swig, eyes scanning the tavern for a place to go. 

There were a few other thieves down there, mostly dressed in brown armor with a few decked out in the same dark color that Brynjolf and Mercer wore. Her eyes fell on the man who Brynjolf was with that morning, and he immediately caught her glance, nodding her over with his head. She took a step closer to him, and he grinned. 

“Pull up a chair, have a drink,” he invited, and she did, sliding into an empty seat on the other side of him. “Name’s Delvin. Delvin Mallory. I believe we met this morning.” His voice was rough, reminding her of gravel, but she wouldn’t call it unpleasant. His words sounded slanted as he extended a hand across the table.  

Mera looked at it for only a moment before she leaned forward, extending her own hand and gripping his firmly. “Mera.” 

His eyes shot up to her face as she leaned closer into the candle, and Delvin whistled lowly. “Quite the bruising you’ve got there. Doubt that was Bersi.” 

Mera snorted. “No, but Helga packs quite the punch.” 

“Ha! I figured as much. Now,” Delvin leaned towards the table, an easy smile on his face. “Lemme guess, Brynjolf plucked you right off the street and threw you right into the thick of things without telling you which way was up, am I right?” 

Mera’s scowl returned. Another older man thinking she was less experienced than she was? Granted, when it came to thieving, she did know little, but that wasn’t the point. She wasn’t a young, fresh faced welp anymore. She’d proven herself, time and time again. 

Just not to them. 

“I think I can handle myself just fine.” She said, trying to keep the malice out of her tone. 

She had half a mind to tell them who she really was when Delvin rolled his eyes at her. That would show them. But she bit her tongue. Thieves or no thieves, she was sure they’d be just as unhappy with her hiding from supposedly saving the world as the rest of the world. 

And what would the rest of Tamriel think? The hero of legend, a common thief? The thought softened her expression before Delvin could even get a word in. 

“Lying to me isn’t going to help you get on my good side. I’m responsible for giving out jobs around here. You know - someone you’d like to have on your side. Now, why don’t we try that again?” 

It hurt her to admit he was right. “Maybe I do need help.” 

“Now, that’s more like it. No worries, this place may look rough, and it is, but the Guild looks out for its own. We’re a family, after all!” 

Mera shifted and took a drink from her bottle. It still tasted coppery to her, she noted with a frown as she tongued the cut on the inside of her teeth. “Thanks, Delvin. I appreciate it.” 

“Now that’s the kind of attitude that gets folks rich. Now, you let me know when your ready to pick up some of these extra jobs I have. Help get the Guild back onto its feet.” He grinned at her, and it felt honest. She allowed herself a small smile too before her brows crossed. 

“...Get the Guild back on its feet, huh? What do you mean by that?” 

Delvin’s smile dissolved into a frown. “Look around you. The Flagon, the Guild... it's all fallin' apart. A few decades ago, this place was as busy as the Imperial City. Now, you're lucky if you don't trip over a skeever instead." 

“What happened here?” She asked, casually sipping her drink. In the background, she caught an older woman with hair so blonde it was almost white looking in their direction with an annoyed glare. 

“Look, I know the others think I'm a bit daft for sayin' stuff like this, but I'm gonna give it to you straight. Somethin' out there is piss-drunk mad at us. I don't know who or what it is, but it's beyond just you and me. We've been cursed.”

“Cursed?” 

“Are you spewing your nonsense at the new girl, Delvin?” Her voice was harsh, angry and each word held intention. 

“It isn’t nonsense, Vex. How else do you explain all this?” Delvin gestured widely with his arms, at the Flagon as a whole, as if the state of the place was all he needed to prove his point. 

“I don’t need a curse to explain the sorry state of this place. It’s poor work ethic and useless footpads who keep getting caught that are bringing us down.” Vex fixed her iron glare on Mera, who simply raised an eyebrow in her direction. “So let's get this straight. First, I’m the best infiltrator that the Guild’s ever seen, so don’t get any ideas about replacing me. Second, you follow my lead. You do what I say how I say it. No excuses - no mistakes. Do I make myself clear?” 

Delvin rolled his eyes, settling back in his chair and Mera’s eyes flickered between the two of them. She took a slow sip of her drink, letting the glass part from her lips with a pop. “Crystal.” 

“Good. Now, let me know when your ready to get your feet wet. I can see that you…” her eyes trailed over her bruising with mild disinterest, “taking the rest of the night for yourself. Can’t say I blame you, since you’ve just come from Goldenglow.” Mera recalled hearing Brynjolf mention Vex when Mercer gave her the Goldenglow job, then. “I handle burglary, shill, sweep, and heist jobs.”

“And  _ I  _ handle the jobs with a bit more of a… personal touch.” Delvin cut in. 

“Right. Do the jobs right, and you’ll get rich. Don’t fuck them up.” She shot one last hard look Mera’s way before turning and heading back to where she was before. 

“Charmer, aint she?” Delvin said. 

Mera turned to look back at him, ready to laugh, only to catch the look in his eyes as he followed Vex across the room. Vex looked back over, caught his gaze and glared, but if anything, Delvin seemed twice as interested as before. 

Ah. So that explained that, then. 

“Yeah, she really knows how to roll out the welcome mat,” Mera scoffed and Delvin looked at her with a shrug. 

Taking another quick swig from her drink, she looked around before speaking again. “So what are some of these jobs that you think will get this place back into shape?” 

A wide, shameless grin broke out across Delvin’s face. “Why I sure am glad you asked.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back at it again at krispy cream 
> 
> Hope ya'll liked the chapter. PLEASE comment if you did. I thrive on them.


	3. Chapter 3

Mera was hesitant at first, but after a short few days three things became very clear to her. One, she had a natural knack for knicking things that weren’t hers. Two, she was growing very used to the heavy feeling of gold in her pocket. And three, her fellow Guildmates were already starting to grow on her. Yes, they were… different from the sort she was used to spending her time with, but that didn’t make them bad. It was surprising, in a way, to see how invested they seemed in the Guild and each other. Judging by Mjoll’s opinion of the Guild, she’d thought they’d be much more cut throat. Less caring. More… every man for themselves, and jealous of the success of their fellow thieves.

That was hardly the case.

It was only a day before one of the largest Nords she’d ever seen outside of the Companion’s clapped her on the shoulder and gladly introduced himself before easily admitting that he was impressed with the work she’d been doing.

It put a bit of a damper on things when he told her he used to be a bandit, but a short conversation managed to redeem him in her eyes. Thrynn, she learned, cared for the money, but not the murder, and he stuck his neck out when things turned sour. She could respect that.

She met the others over the span of her first week. They were never all there at the same time, always doing odd jobs when they could, but as she ran into them, they were friendly, and more than willing to accept her into their ranks.

Of them all, she found herself getting along best with Rune. He was young, and probably one of the closest people in the Guild to her age. For a thief, the Imperial was rather sweet.

“Brynjolf caught you picking his pocket?” Mera laughed as Rune shrugged and scratched the back of his neck.

“If it was anyone else, I would have gotten away with it. But, well, I suppose I’m lucky he caught me, huh? Brought me in after that, gave me a chance at making some real coin.”

“You like it here, then?” Mera asked.

She sat perched on a barrel, swinging her legs absently as Rune shot arrows into the dummies in the training room, aiming for the head.

“I’ve been a thief my whole life. In the past, it was always to survive. Never thought I’d make a career out of it but hey, it happens. But yeah, I like it here. What about you?”

“Hm? Me?”

“Yeah, you. What do you think? You’ve been running jobs for what, a week now? And you’re pretty damn good at it, too.” He shot one last arrow, missing the target by an inch before he grumbled and put his bow away.

Mera hopped off her perch and nabbed the bottle she’d been drinking from off the shelf. These days she found herself rarely without a bottle in her hands. The Guild was hardly in short supply - the Black-Briar’s kept them stocked - and as long as she didn’t let herself get too drunk or drink before a job, it was fine.

It was easier to focus on the here and now when the amber liquid slipped down her throat.

“I like it. I… I didn’t think I would, to be honest,” she shrugged a bit as they walked back to the main hall of the Cistern. “But it’s grown on me.”

“You should have seen it a few years ago, even. They say the Guild’s been on a decline for a long time, but these past few years have-- oh!” Rune stopped himself, a smile smile crossing his lips. “Look who it is.” He gestured to the other side of the Cistern, where a man sat with his feet dangling into the water. He looked up and gave Rune a wave, which Rune returned.

Mera hardly noticed, though. She couldn’t take her eyes off of his face.

There was a lot that happened when she was in the Thalmor Embassy. She’d gotten her ass handed to her, more or less. And with the loss of Malborn, she tried not to think too much on what had happened there.

But she’d never forget that face.

Etienne. She thought that was his name. With her hood up how it was, she doubted he could see her, too, but his face was laid out for her to see. He looked better. Much better than the last time she saw him. She remembered, then, where he said he was from. The Thalmor had plucked him from the Ratway. Of course he’d be a member of the Guild - how did she not get that before?

“He’s been in and out this past month or so. He went missing a while back,” Rune explained, his voice a whisper. “When he came back he was… different. He’s only taken a hand full of jobs since then and he’s been spending a lot of time out of the Ratway. Can’t say I blame him. You should go introduce yourself. Just… don’t make any sudden moves, yeah?”

Mera only half listened to what Rune was saying before she shook her head quickly. “Yeah, I, um… that’s a good idea. I’ll see you later, Rune.”

“Yeah, alright.” Rune clapped her on the shoulder before turning away, and Mera let her feet cary her towards Etienne.

Gods, what would she do if he recognized her? She decided only a few days prior that her being Dragonborn _had_ to remain a secret, especially once it became clear just exactly how deep Maven Black-Briar’s involvement with the Guild was. The last thing she wanted was that woman thinking she could order the Dragonborn around. She knew Thrynn, who was the heavy hitter for the Guild, frequently took jobs from Maven that required violence.

Mera didn’t want that. Not one bit.

There was a moment where she paused, eyes fixed on the back of Etienne’s head. His sandy blonde hair stuck up in odd directions as if he’d just put his hood down. She straightened her arms down at her sides, clenching her fists tightly as he exhaled a tight breath, before consciously making her steps louder behind him.

He flinched slightly at the new noise, but she thought that it was better than simply sneaking up on him. She didn’t wait for him to speak, or to even turn around before she put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “...Etienne?”

Despite the fact that she announced herself, the thief nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned his head quickly, eyes wide as he went up to her, first in fear and then in recognition. “Gods, it’s you!”

“Shh, quiet, please,” Mera urged him before she allowed herself a smile.

“What are you doing here?” He asked with wide eyes searching over her face.

“I met Brynjolf after the Embassy when I came here to…” she trailed off and Etienne nodded, urging her to continue. “He brought me in. I only just joined earlier this week. I’m glad to see you made it back okay. They haven’t come to give you trouble, have they?”

She didn’t need to say who they was. Etienne’s eyes darkened at the very pronoun, and he looked over his shoulder nervously before he shook his head.

“No, no they haven’t.”

“I didn’t think they would, now that the old man is gone.”

“I heard about that,” he said, “that some wild warrior woman came in and killed a bunch of soldiers in the Ratway and dragged the wizard out. I thought it might be you.”

“Heh, yeah. It was a job.” She shrugged and he laughed, the sound of it shaky. She took the moment to look him over. He looked better than the last time she saw him. Less bruised, better fed, but the dark circles beneath his eyes were as present as they were the day they met. With the swelling gone from his face she was able to notice just how young he was. He couldn’t have been older than her by more than a few years, if even that.

“Gotta say, after what I witnessed with you at the…. Well, I’m surprised to see you decided to join the Guild. You weren’t exactly sneaky.”

“I’m still not,” Mera let herself laugh but Etienne’s eyes seemed to fix themselves on the faded bruises on her face.

“I can tell.” Etienne licked his lips and leaned in, lowering his voice. “Mera, what I saw…”

“Etienne,” she lowered her voice too. Turned her head, searching for anyone who could be listening. Rune was still across the room, in headed conversation with Thrynn and Brynjolf stood closer to them, watching Niruin fire countless arrows into the targets on the water. No one seemed to be listening. “What do you remember?”

“Things that the people here would call be crazy for believing.” His eyes darted from hers down to her lips, then back up. “Something that would probably earn you quite a bit of respect and quiet a lot of gold if it happened down here.”

Mera swore to herself and she shut her eyes tightly. Perhaps it was foolish to think he’d forgotten; watching a woman scream fire at a frost troll is hardly the kind of thing you’d forget. But she’d hoped. Gods she’d hoped.

“It can’t happen down here.” She said firmly. “It won’t happen down here. Etienne, they can’t know.”

“Aye, I figured as much.”

“No one can know about that, do you understand me?” She used her hand to grip his arm tightly, holding his attention to her. “There are a lot of people who’d like to find me and I can’t… I won’t…”

“Say no more, Mera.” He shook his head before meeting her gaze once again. “What you did for me…. I won’t ever forget that. I owe you, this is the least I can do.”

“Oh, please, you don’t owe me.” She let him go, brushing off the idea that he was indebted to her. “Just… do me this favor.”

“I won’t tell a soul. You have my word, for whatever that’s worth.” he laughed nervously, scratching at the back of his head and Mera managed a nervous smile.

If she was being honest, it wasn’t worth much. She didn’t regret saving Etienne, and she would do it again, but with him here her position was compromised. She didn’t know him, and what she did know was that he was a thief. Hardly honest, filled with greed. How far would his loyalty go if gold was on the table? It made her stomach churn uneasily.

“That’s all I can ask of you,” Mera said, a strained smile on her face.

She looked around once again, eyes searching to see if they’d drawn any attention during their conversation. Mera was well aware of how intimate their conversation probably looked. It stood out for sure in the casual atmosphere in the Guild. Luckily, it seemed no one had picked up on it.

But then she saw a pair of emerald eyes lingering in their direction.

“I’ve got to go,” she said to Etienne, forcing her gaze away from that of Brynjolf’s. “We should get a drink sometime.”

“I think I’d like that. See you around, Mera.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you.”

Mera got to her feet slowly, placing her hand on Etienne’s shoulder when she did until she was sturdy on her feet. She let her hand linger for a moment more before she walked with confident steps in Brynjolf’s direction.

Gods she hoped he didn’t hear any of that.

“Brynjolf,” she said stiffly, chin pointed up at him as she looked at him with hard eyes.

She understood his reasoning of course, but she was still sore from their last conversation from when she returned from Goldenglow. They hadn’t spoken since then - they hadn’t had a moment to. He was busy working with Mercer and conning people up top and she was caught up in adjusting, running small local jobs for Delvin and Vex while she was still theoretically on parole.

As annoyed as she’d been with Brynjolf’s criticism of her methods, she’d been trying to heed his advice. He was right, if she charged in and got into fight, she’d get herself caught. It wasn’t good for the Guild, and it certainly wouldn’t be good for her.

She refused to spend another night in chains.

“Ah, good to see you, lass,” The red headed Nord greeted her with a smooth smile. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t find him charming, and she was sure he knew just how charming he could be.

His smile, his accent, his eyes - they were all very disarming.

“Delvin tells me you’ve completely cleared out the Scorched Hammer,” Brynjolf continued to speak conversationally, that smile still pulling on his lips. “That’s good work, lass. Was that the job, or was that just you?”

“Vex wanted me to clear out the strongbox, Delvin wanted me to change the numbers in the book. The rest was me,” Mera explained honestly.

She’d done two jobs since joining the Guild, aside from Goldenglow. The first had her nabbing gold from Grelka’s stand. The second was the Scorched Hammer. Mera could admit to herself that thieving from shop keeps made her nervous. She wasn’t sneaky, not in the slightest, and she still felt bad when stealing from those who were inherently innocent. Goldenglow was different. Aringoth had brought it upon himself - he already made deals with thieves. And with the first job she attempted for Brynjolf she had the excuse of it being for the greater good. She needed to get access to Esbern and Brynjolf promised his help - but only if she helped him first.

Sneaking her way into the Scorched Hammer was very easy though. With all the inhabitants asleep, and no guards on the inside to stop her she was able to make her way down the stairs and find the strongbox. She picked the lock (breaking far too many picks) and changed the book, and she’d been ready to leave right up until she caught the shine of metal on the shelf.

Iron, steel, silver. Her eyes went wide at the sight of it.

The next thing she knew it was weighing down her bag and she was making her way back up the stairs.

“Ah, I thought so. The way things have been going down here, most aren’t bold enough to try anything beyond what they need to do to get the job done. Well done.”

His easy praise shocked her, bringing a faint warmth to her neck and cheeks. “I… thank you, Brynjolf.”

His smirk was mirthful. “Keep it up and you’ll make us both look good. Now, Delvin _also_ mentioned that if I saw you to point you in his direction.”

Mera tilted her head to the side slightly. “He mention why?”

“He had a job he wanted to pass to you. Seems Delvin seems to think you’re read to get out of Riften.”

Brows furrowing she asked him, “And what do you think?”

“I think you should work more on your sneaking,” For a moment, a challenge burned inside of her but Brynjolf continued, “But that doesn’t mean you aren’t capable enough to take a job outside city limits.”

“Need to work on my sneaking, huh?” he was right. “I think I can change your mind on that.”

Brynjolf laughed, the sound easy. “I hope you do. Now, I need to go alleviate the people of Riften of their coin. I’ll see you when you get back.”

A smile of her own found its way onto her face as she walked backwards a step before turning on her heel and headed for the Ragged Flagon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen I love Rune so much okay????????? I LOVE him  
> And Etienne okay  
> Mera will kill for them 
> 
> pls review!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't proofread this.

Mera returned from her job with feet dragging on the ground. Of all the places Delvin had to send her, it had to be Whiterun. 

She would have prefered nearly any city to Whiterun. Even a place as frozen and unforgiving as Dawnstar would have been better than going there. But Whiterun was where the job was. 

And Delvin certainly didn’t appreciate her hesitance. 

_ “Now, Mera, I like you, but we can’t afford for anyone to be denying jobs,” Delvin scowls at her from across the table. Mera shrinks back a bit, a frown on her face. She doesn’t like Delvin looking at her like that, she decides. It makes her feel small. Young.  _

_ “I know Delvin but-”  _

_ “Mercer doesn’t even want me sending you out. I told him I thought you were ready. Now are you going to make me go back to him and tell him he was right?”  _

_ Her heart clenches in her chest and she shakes her head. “No, no. I’ll do the job.” She says, and then more firmly, “I’ll do it. Just tell me what I’m stealing and from where.”  _

She shuffled her way through the Cistern, not paying much mind to what anyone else was doing as she made her way to the training room. She kept her hood up and her head down. Even the idea of smiling made her jaw ache from where Njada had punched her. 

The job wasn’t hard. Steal some gold from Belethor and change the numbers in his book. Easy. Done. Mera never liked him to begin with. She’d been worried, when Delvin said she was going there, that she’d have to steal from someone she liked. Someone she cared for. She’d been fortunate. This time. 

If she was smarter, she would have done the job and gone out, walked her ass back to Riverwood and stayed the night there. But being so near to Jorrvaskr had her wolf’s blood behaving in a way it hadn’t in what felt like months. She craved the presence of her pack no matter the consequences. 

_ “What in Oblivion are you doing here?” Njada stands tall, arms crossed over her chest as she levels Mera with a heavy glare.  _

_ Mera’s well aware of how she looks. Of how all of this looks. But she squares her jaw and straightens her back, looking the other Nord dead in the eyes. “I’m a Companion, Njada. Same as you.”  _

_ “Oh, it’s just a Companion now, is it? Not going to try and claim the position of Harbinger anymore? You hardly deserve it. You’ve been gone, what, two months without a word? Still dealing with the crisis,  _ Dragonborn _?” Njada has always been hot, and her short temper flares as Mera grits her teeth.  _

_ “Oh, lay off it, Njada,” Athis rolls his eyes, “I doubt you know what she’s been working on.”  _

_ “So you think she’s actually been off saving the world. Is that it then, Harbinger? Go on, let us know about the Dragon Crisis.”  _

_ Mera exhales slowly. “Njada I don’t really have time-”  _

_ “Oh, no time for your  _ underlings _?” _

_ “Now I really don’t think-”  _

_ “And Kodlak thought you would be-” _

_ “Njada! I won’t-” _

_ “And now you’re interrupting me! I-” _

_ “I’m leaving!”  _

_ “Oh no you don’t!”  _

Mera flinched, bringing a hand up to rub at her jaw from the memory. She deserved the hit. And it took most of the energy she had to not hit Njada right back. She was lucky that was when Aela walked in and broke the fight before it could properly start. 

By that point, Mera was already dizzy with the desire to succumb to the blood. 

She passed Thrynn on her way into the training room, and the man spared her a passing nod as he did. The whole room was empty, then, and for that she was thankful. Mera dropped her geer bag on the ground and cracked her back before approaching one of the dummies. Inhale. Exhale. Swing. She punched the dummy firmly in the stomach. 

It’d been a while she she felt the need to heed the call of her beast blood. 

_ “Mera!” Aela growls her name the second they’re in the Harbinger’s quarters, large double doors shut tight. She grips the smaller woman by both shoulders and shakes her hard. _

_ Mera grits her teeth, skewing her eyes shut tight as she shakes her head. Her breaths come in quick, heavy pants.  _

_ “Get it together!” Aela moves one of her hands, gripping Mera by her now sore jaw and holding her head still. She forces the younger Nord to look her in the eyes. “Breathe.”  _

_ Something about Aela being her forbear has always affected her beast. And when Mera looks the other woman in the eyes, she manages to slow her breathing.  _

_ “When was the last time you took the beast form?” Aela asks and Mera shakes her head.  _

_ “Gods damn it. You need to be more  _ careful _ Mera. What if you’d slipped upstairs?”  _

_ Mera shakes her head again, more insistently. “I don’t slip.”  _

_ Aela sighs. “I know.”  _

Mera punched the dummy in the head with a firm left hook before going for the chest in quick, rapid hits. She grunted, feeling her heart rate increase despite her exhaustion as she pushed herself to fight her stationary target. 

She couldn’t get Aela’s eyes out of her head, no matter how many times she hit the straw filled sack. Despite the situation, Aela looked  _ happy _ to see her. As if she deserved that. Mera sneered, swinging so hard her hand ached upon impact. Pulling it to her chest she rubbed her knuckles absently, glaring down at the dummy before she shook her head. 

Silently, Mera pulled out both of her blades, twirling them in her hands before she lashed out again. 

Of course, once Mera and Aela got settled, Farkas and Vilkas didn’t take long to show up. They walked into the Harbinger’s quarters with bottles of mead. Too much damn mead. But she was so fucking thankful when they handed her a bottle and asked her something inconsequential rather than where she’d been, or what she’d been doing. They’d waited until she had two bottles before asking her that. 

_ “Mera….” Farkas starts, shifting from where he’s sitting on the floor. They ignore the table, the four of them, deciding to sit cross leg in a circle as they drink and catch up. His eyes dart to Aela then to his brother before he continues. Mera knows what he’s going to say before the question even leaves his lips. “Where have you been?”  _

_ She knows to expect this. She’s never been gone this long before, not without word. And she left nearly two months ago, now, and last they knew she was off to Markarth with an innkeep and an old wizard to do Dragonborn business. She hasn’t sent words since.  _

_ “We were starting to worry,” Vilkas picks up where his brother left off. “You haven’t reached out in…”  _

_ “I know.” She says, voice low before she repeats. “I know. I’m sorry.”  _

_ She knows that they know something is wrong. They always know when something is wrong. It’s their blood. It’s like they can sense it, when one of them is off. She knows she can’t lie to them. She never could.  _

_ “We figured you’d gotten to Markarth, what with the reports of the two dragon’s going down right around when you’d be there.” Vilkas shifts in place, looking at her with hard eyes. While she always felt closest with her shield-sister, no one makes her feel as paper thin as Vilkas. Its as if he can see right through her. “But no word since. Did you find what you needed?”  _

_ It’s a loaded question. If she found what she needed, she would have told them immediately. “I…” she starts, trailing off as she looks down at the half empty third bottle of mead that’s in front of her. She’s quiet for a long moment before she feels a light pressure on her hand that rests on the floor. Aela, reaching out, encouraging her to speak. “I don’t want to lie to you.” She says, slowly raising her head to look Vilkas in the eyes.  _

_ He stares into her. “Then don’t.”  _

Even then her guilt still burnt hot inside of her. She lashed out, cutting into the dummy before pausing to look at the damage she inflicted. 

Straw wasn’t nearly as satisfying as blood. 

She groaned at the thought, dropping her swords to her side and bringing her hands up to grip at her skull. No, she shouldn’t think like that. That was the beast talking, still so eager to get out. 

She sobbed when she told them about joining the Guild. She could tell Vilkas was mad. He wore the expression on his face like he wore his armor. The moment the words left her lips his eyes went dark. It’d been a long time since her wolf wanted to submit to anyone, especially after Skjor died, but at that moment she wanted to roll over under his gaze. Thinking about it made her whole body shake, and she bent over, forcing herself to grab onto her blades. 

Worse than Vilkas, Farkas just looked  _ sad _ . Confused. He didn’t get it. He probably never would. The only one who remained stoic in the face of her crimes was Aela. It was all exactly what she expected. 

_ “I’m sorry.” She says, voice cracking as Vilkas gets up and walks out of the room. Farkas lingers a moment longer, torn between going with his brother and staying with the other half of his pack. In the end, he chooses the door.  _

_ Mera hangs her head, hugging her legs tightly to her chest as hot drunken tears slide down her face. For a long moment she sits in silence before Aela speaks up.  _

_ “They’ll come around. Just give them time.”  _

_ Mera slowly raises her head to look at the other woman. Her shield-sister’s eyes are firm.  _

_ “Aren’t you mad?”  _

_ “Yes.” Aela says, but she continues before Mera can jump to conclusions. “But I trust you. And I trust that you’ll do what’s right.”  _

Mera’s eyes burned as she slashed at the dummy once again, her movements relentless as her vision blurred. She dropped her swords again, letting them clatter to the floor and without pause she brought her fists back up, slamming them into the straw dummy. Hot salted tears slid down the side of her face as she laid into the straw man, taking all her anger out on it until she hit it one last time, knocking hits head clean off. 

When it went flying she stopped, eyes wide as she breathed heavily, shoulders rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. She sniffled hard, bringing a hand up to wipe her tears off her face and then to run her fingers through her hair. 

Shit.

“I think you got it, lass.” 

Mera flinched, turning quickly on her heel to find Brynjolf standing there in the doorway. He looked casual, normal, as if he didn’t just witness her breakdown. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he’d just walked in. She could hope. 

“I didn’t hear you come in.” 

“I only just walked in,” he walked over with slow steps, his dark Guild armor muffling the sound of his footfalls as he passed her and went straight to the dummy. He picked up the head, eying it for a moment before placing it on one of the many barrels that lined the room. 

“I gotta admit,” he started, turning back to face her. “I wasn’t expecting you to have that in you,” His smile was easy and for a moment she thought he was mocking her. Heat flared inside of her before he continued, “Looks like Thrynn might have some competition as our heavy hitter.” 

A hot retort bit at her tongue until he turned back to face her. His smile, his eyes: they were both so genuine. Brynjolf approached her with steady steps, that smile still on his face until he got close enough to take a look at her. Then it was consumed by a frown. 

“What happened?” he asked, hand coming up like he intended to touch her before it fell back to his side. “Delvin said that Whiterun job should have been a cake walk. Did something-” 

“It’s fine, Brynjolf,” Mera said firmly before she sighed. “I’m fine. It wasn’t the job, so don’t worry. I didn’t get caught.” She expected him to ease up on that but he didn’t. In fact, his frown seemed to deepen, causing creases to form on his forehead. 

“Personal troubles?” He asked. Before she could answer, he held up both his hands in a defensive position. “I know it isn’t my place, but you’re in the Guild now, lass. If someone is giving you trouble…” 

His concern formed a solid rock inside of her stomach. She didn’t deserve that. Not from him. Not from anyone. In an instant his eyes were replaced with Farkas’s. Vilkas. Aela. Her chest felt tight as she shook her head.

“I’m fine, Brynjolf. Really. Don’t waste your concern on me.” She tried to wave him off, but he didn’t seem convinced. 

“I’d hardly call it a waste,” Brynjolf’s voice was soft. “But I won’t press.” 

“Thank you,” She said, but he continued. 

“But, if you need anything,” he looked at her seriously, “you let me know. Or Delvin. Even with the state of things down here, we still have resources. If you need something taken care of…”

“Thank you, Brynjolf.” She said again, a bit more firmly. “But I can take care of it.” 

He held up his hands in a defensive position again as he took a half step backwards. “I believe that.”

Brynjolf turned his back to her again, walking back towards the dummy where he bent down and picked up both of her swords. He held them out to her, eyes soft and tentatively she took them. 

“You look like you could use a drink,” He offered, gesturing out of the training room.

Mera let out a quick laugh. “You’re right about that.” 

“I was headed to the Flagon now, myself,” Brynjolf continued. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.” 

Mera eyed him suspiciously for a long moment. It’d been a long time since she’d let someone that wasn’t a Companion buy her a drink. Ever since her…. unfortunate run in with a certain Daedric Prince, she’d been much more cautious. But she supposed she didn’t have much to fear from Brynjolf. After all, he seemed like he was genuinely trying to be nice. After a moment she nodded, letting a small smile tug at her lips. “Alright. But I’ll get second round.” 

His lips pulled up in a wide grin like that. “Now that’s the spirit, lass.” 

She let Brynjolf lead her out of the training room and into the Flagon, and it wasn’t long before there was a bottle at her lips. She sipped it, letting the flavor wash over her tongue as she closed her eyes and exhaled. 

_ Aela crawls into the Harbinger’s bed with her. It’s been a long time since they’ve done this, but Mera is low and Aela can sense it, so she stays. Mera fits comfortably against the other woman in bed, curled close together and even with the curse of the beast within her, her blood feels restful if only for a few moments.  _

_ “I’m sorry.” Mera murmurs into the dark. She feels small, like this. Young. Less like the Harbinger of the Companions, less like the Dragonborn of legend, and more like the lost girl who woke up in Helgen all those months ago.  _

_ Aela hums from behind her. “I know.”  _

_ “I can’t-” she hiccups, “I can’t be what they need me to be.”  _

_ “You can,” Aela speaks firmly. “Even if you just don’t know it yet.”  _

Drunk, Mera fell into an uneasy sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little companion cameo for you all! I forgot how much I love writing them, god. 
> 
> Mera's having a hard time :( my poor baby. It'll work out for her. Eventually. 
> 
> Please leave kudos or review if you liked this. I've been having a rough time as of late but whenever I get a notification from this site it makes me smile like an idiot.


	5. Chapter 5

She stands at the end of the world, bathed in fire. Bathed in blood. Nearby a dragon bellows its call. 

It reminds her of Helgen. But this time there are no soldiers. No civilians. No prisoners of war. 

It’s just her. Her and the ebony expanse of an endless wingspan as Death hovers before her. She closes her eyes, and she wishes she could remember the faces of her family. Doesn’t she deserve that much here, at the end of all things? 

Death bares down on her, cursing her in a language she cannot understand, and Mera only feels cold. She doesn’t know if she’s ready to die for this. Ready to die for the world. But she supposes that that decision was made for her, melania before she was even born. 

She will bring warmth to this cold place. With tears in her eyes the Dragonborn parts her lips. 

_ Yol. _

 

Mera couldn’t breathe. 

A pressure on her face had her scrambling, eyes wide as a shocked sound came from beside her. A quick curse in the darkness while she fumbled for her weapons. 

“Mera!” The figure next to her hissed her name and blindly she swung to punch them, her movements sloppy and unclean. 

Whoever it was dodged her fist, gripping her wrist and squeezing as they hissed her name again. “Gods, Mera, calm down! You’re going to wake someone up! For Divines’ sake, it’s  _ me _ !” 

That voice was familiar. 

Mera blinked in the darkness, and through it she saw Etienne, face close to hers and panic in his eyes. 

“Etienne?” She slurred out the word, still half asleep and half drunk from the night before.  Mera shook her head, trying to clear the fog of adrenaline from her brain that was caused by being jolted so suddenly away. Her eyes wandered him, darting from his own gaze to his face, down to his hand that he was keeping against his chest and the other he was using to keep her from swinging. “Wha’ happened?” 

“You were making a lot of noise in your sleep,” he hissed, slowly releasing her hand and bringing his up to cradle the other. The Breton turned his head, checking to see if their scuffle had woken anyone else up. Rune, who slept nearest to her, still snored softly. “...I figured you were having a nightmare. I would have let it go but you opened your mouth and I thought-” 

Her dream. Mera gasped, sitting up completely and grabbing for his limp hand. “Gods, Etienne, did I burn you?” 

“It’s nothing, I-” 

She cut him off with a harsh sound, bringing his hand closer to her so she could look at his palm. “Fuck,” she whined at the sight of it. His whole palm was pink. “Gods I’m so  _ sorry  _ I-” 

“Mera, it’s fine.” Etienne interrupted, pulling his hand away from her. “It isn’t serious.” 

He was right about that, at least. It didn’t look too bad. Sure, the burn would be uncomfortable but in a few days he’d be fine. It likely wouldn’t even scar. 

“Still… Shit, I can’t believe I did that. You didn’t need to do that.” She shook her head, trying to blink the headache away that was climbing into her eyes. 

“Hm. Well, whatever it is you’re trying to hide, I’m sure it would be a lot more difficult if you lit the whole Cistern on fire in your sleep.” 

Mera brought a hand to her face, dragging it over her eyes and groaning. She hadn’t shouted in her sleep in… Gods, not since before she became a werewolf. When she met with the Greybeards they helped her meditate to control it, but to have an incident now? Here? 

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I owe you for this.” 

Etienne shook his head, peeling back from where he was and getting to his feet. “I told you I wouldn’t tell anyone what I saw. If I can, I’ll make sure you don’t give yourself away, too. It’s the least I can do.” 

Mera hung her head. She was lucky that Etienne stopped her, but she couldn’t rely on luck forever. Another incident like that and she was, well, cooked. “Are you going back to bed?” She asked lowly. From somewhere else in the room someone groaned in their sleep and they both paused. 

He nodded. “Yeah, you?” 

“No. I think I’m going to take a walk. Get some rest.” 

Wordlessly he nodded, turning to head back to his bed where it rested on the other side of Rune. 

* * *

 

Really there was no reason for him to be out this late. This time of night, the streets were only occupied with beggars and guards, but it’d been too long since he’d picked a lock. These days there was hardly any time for him to exercise his unique talents. He was always too busy helping hold the Guild together. 

Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest for him to do this after drinking as much as he did back down in the Flagon, but the mead left him restless with his lips and fingers buzzing from the linger effects of the alcohol. He couldn’t sleep like this. 

With a long, low exhale Brynjolf moved through the shadows. There was nothing quite like the feeling of moving unseen. From one of the may alley’s Brynjolf reached out as a guard walked by, swiping his coin purse on him as he passed without the guard even flinching. He slipped back into the shadow of the building, tossing the small sack up and then catching it in his other palm. There had to be about 30 gold in there. Not much, he thought with a frown, but he hadn’t expected a guard to carry more than that on duty. Slipping it into the pocket of his armor, he slipped around behind the buildings, through the graveyard and the gardens before peeling himself out of the darkness once again to walk out onto the docks beside Mistveil keep and the orphanage. 

He crept around the edge, crossing the bridge into the marketplace. Rumor had it that Grelka made quite the sale today. He was willing to be at least half of that gold was still in her strong box. He crouched low, digging in his pocket for the roll of picks he kept on him at all times. He was about to pull them out with a triumphant huff when he heard voices from not far away. He furrowed his brow, willing to ignore it and continue his work when he realized he  _ recognized  _ one of the voices involved. 

“Oh, fuck off,” a woman slurred heavily. Peeking up and over the edge of the stand confirmed for Brynjolf that it was Mera, over near Balimund forge. He couldn’t see her face, but her blonde hair was enough of a clue. Two guards stood in front of her, essentially pinning her to the wall and leaving her with no escape. 

“You’re causing trouble,” One of the guards said, voice gruff and Brynjolf slowly got to his feet. “We’re just asking you to come with us.” 

“And I’m asking you to  _ fuck off _ ,” As he got closer, Brynjolf could see Mera wobble on her feet, leaning towards them before going back to lean against the wood of the Scorched Hammer. “‘m not botherin’ anyone.” 

“I have half a mind to lock you up until you sober up, woman!” The second guard said, before the first spoke up. 

“Say, don’t you think she matches the description of the person seen leaving Balimund’s after he was robbed,” The first pointed out. 

“Shit,” Brynjolf muttered under his breath as he got closer. Mera had a bottle in her hand, and even in the face of the danger she was in, she swayed and took a swig. Brynjolf narrowed his eyes with a low hiss. Hadn’t she gone to sleep after they drank? She’d been a mess earlier that day. He thought buying her a bottle and putting her bed after would be enough to help ease her mind, but now she was out causing trouble. 

He had half a mind to let her deal with it herself. He might have, if he hadn’t seen just how upset she  _ was _ in the training room, hours before. The sight of her crying and knocking the head off of a dummy was not one he’d soon forget. 

“I haven’t done  _ shit _ .” She cursed, shaking her head. “‘m just trynna get… get home.” 

“And where would that be?” One guard pressed. 

“With me,” Brynjolf spoke up, jogging over to them with quicker steps. “She’s with me.” He shouldered his way past the guards, putting a firm arm around her shoulder to help hold her up as he looked down at her. Mera’s eyes were confused, brows furrowed as he frowned at her. “I’ve been looking all over for you! When did you leave the Bee and Barb? I swear,” he said, turning to face the guards with his most disarming smile. “I leave her alone for five minutes and she’s gone!” 

The guard straightened up, eyes looking Brynjolf up and down through his mask, clearly noticing his armor and the power in his stance. “...Your friend here is a suspect of a pretty serious crime.” 

Brynjolf removed his arm from Mera’s shoulder, looking down to make sure she wasn’t going to fall. She stayed steady, watching him with the same furrowed brow and confused look that she had on when he walked over. Once he was sure she was fine, he took one large step towards both of the guards, reaching a hand into his pocket. He clapped one of them on the shoulder, and slipped a coin purse into the guard’s hand with the other. 

“I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding,” he said, voice smooth as he smiled at the other man with bright teeth. 

The guard closed his hand around the coin purse, weighing it in his hand before he fully accepted it, slipping it into a pocket. “You’re right. I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am.” The guard nodded over Brynjolf’s shoulder to Mera. “Stay out of trouble now.” 

Slowly, both guards turned and walked away, and Brynjolf was left alone in the dark with Mera pitched against the wall behind him. He turned to face her, expecting some extreme emotion from her. She never seemed to be cool. Quick to anger, quick to laugh. Again he thought of her slashing at the dummy in the training room, looking like she wanted so badly to scream her head off but taking it out on the straw instead. 

Whatever he expected to find - the same anger she showed the guards, irritation at him for stepping in - he didn’t find it. When he turned around, Mera just looked numb. 

She didn’t look at him, instead she looked behind him with hazy, red, drunken eyes and towards where the guards were walking away towards. Instead of her usual tall stance, she was slumped against the wall, making her look so much smaller than she was. Limply, her arms hung to her side, and she clung to the neck of a mostly empty bottle of mead, but it looked like it was ready to slip from her fingers at any moment. 

He took a step closer to her, not even bothering to hide the concern in his eyes when he spoke up. “Lass?” She muttered something heavily slurred under her breath. “Mera, I can’t hear-”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said a little louder. Slowly, she raised her head to look at him. 

Brynjolf didn’t justify that with a response. Instead, he asked, “How long have you been out here?” 

Mera shrugged. “Dunno. An hour?” 

An hour. They only parted from the Flagon about two hours ago. And she got up and went straight back to drinking. No wonder she was as in as sorry as a state as she was. 

Carefully, he reached out and gripped her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. She looked as bad as she did earlier, if not worse. The bruise on her jaw was still prevalent, and it only seemed to be highlighted by how bloodshot her eyes were. Her breath smelt like mead. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” He asked, surprising himself by how tender he sounded. He didn’t expect her to answer, and when she opened her mouth to respond he was taken aback. 

“Bad dreams,” Mera said, her voice soft. It wasn’t much of an answer, but it was telling. Brynjolf frowned with a nod. 

“Hm. Well let’s get you back to the Cistern, alright lass?” He moved his hand to her shoulder, helping support her as she got off the wall. She nodded, and surprised him yet again by leaning heavily onto him as he lead her away. 

Brynjolf lead her to the graveyard, taking slow steps so she could keep up, and the longer they moved, the more of a deadweight she became at his side. He propped her up on the inside of the mausoleum, resting her against the wall as he checked for guards before pressing the button. He urged her inside, climbing down the ladder before she did so he could catch her if she fell. Miraculously, she didn’t, and he was able to usher her deeper inside. 

He practically carried her to where she normally slept in the empty bed beside Rune. She hung on him as he dragged her there, her arm half hanging around his neck.  “Easy, here we are,” he said lowly, trying to figure out how to set her down when she tilted her head back to look at him. 

Their faces were close. Almost too close, and her bright eyes, dulled only by the liquor, looked straight up into his. Mera breathed heavily, audibly, and she looked to consider something for a long moment before she spoke with slurred words. 

“You’re…. Hm,” she paused, squeezing her eyes shut tight before she liked her lips and tried again. “You’re very sweet.” 

Had he been a younger man, he might have blushed. Instead, he managed a tired smirk in her direction as he carefully set her on the bed. “Get some sleep, lass.” He said, his voice a whisper as he tried not to wake up Rune, who snored softly beside them. 

Mera nodded, head lulling, and she practically fell from her seated position to one where she was laying on the mattress. Brynjolf sighed, going to grab both of her legs and he swung them up and onto the bed for her. She murmured something that sounded like a thank you, but by the time he was standing up straight again and looking down at her, she was out cold. 

Brynjolf caught himself frowning when he looked down at her, catching the way her mouth hung open and her chest raised and fell with heavy drunken breaths. He didn’t doubt that the lass had her own issues, her own history. Most of them did, and nightmares in the Cistern were about as common as anything else that could be found down in the sewers. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t a cause for concern. It didn’t mean he didn’t care. 

He shook his head, turning away from the unconscious Nord on the bed and headed to his own closer to the Cistern exit. He spared one last glance in her direction, assuring himself that she was safe and in bed before he finally made his way to get comfortable. As drunk as she was, she would be fine until the morning. And if not, well…. Then they would have to cross that bridge in the morning too. 

Brynjolf climbed into bed and let his eyes fall closed, but all he could think of was her face uptop, and how her breath smelt like mead when she called him sweet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait ya'll. I've been crazy busy with finals, but all that's finally over!   
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The opening bit breaks my heart. My poor baby...
> 
> As always, please leave a comment if you like what you see. I got some comments recently that inspired me to get back to working on this story faster, so know that you have the power to do that. :)


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